33. Char
CHAR
I couldn’t help myself. The screaming? Even I heard the panic in Deac’s voice when it all happened. I watched them soar out of the bar after he barked orders at me like a madman, and my stomach dropped to my toes. Something big was happening. Something bad, too.
And they didn’t have a fucking clue what was going on.
I raced out into the parking lot just in time to watch all of them careen off into the distance.
I raked my hands through my hair as worry filled my gut.
Did I have a right to worry? Should I have been worried?
It didn’t matter, the truth was that… well, I was.
I was worried for them. For their man, or whoever the hell had gotten themselves into trouble.
I watched them blaze a trail out of sight as dust kicked back in my face.
As much as I wanted to run all sorts of scenarios in my mind, I simply couldn’t. I wanted to stand there until they came back, and yet I wanted to go after them and help. I didn’t know what in the world I’d do to help, but I wanted to try.
Since when the hell do you want to help them?
Since Dallas brought you coffee and held you while you cried. Since Deacon told you the truth even when he didn’t have to. Since Gauge showed up at your door about a railing he could’ve just fixed without saying a word, and you knew then that he was the kind of man who showed up. That was when.
“Fuck!” I exclaimed.
I turned to head back into the bar just before I heard the screeching of tires.
A harsh boom sounded out, followed by the squealing of tires yet again.
I whipped around with my hand on the door of the bar, ready to shove myself back inside.
But, I watched as a black van flew through the wall of dust the guys had left behind.
Before the sound of gunshots rang out.
“Ah!” I exclaimed as I ducked back into the bar.
The van hopped the curb and damn near took out my car sitting off to the side.
I held my breath as I watched it swerve back onto the road, nearly costing me the only source of transportation I had.
This wasn’t good. None of it. And as dread filled my gut, my senses heightened.
Time around me seemed to slow down. Everything felt crisper.
More vibrant. I had only felt that way one other time.
And that was before I took the stand at my father’s murder trial.
“Bar,” I said breathlessly as I forced myself away from the window. “I have to tend the bar. I promised.”
My curiosity held me hostage, though. I had to actively fight my body and force it to stay behind that bar.
I busied myself with cleaning things down, but my ears were trained outside.
I pulled my cell phone out and set it on the bar, just in case.
I didn’t know what the ‘just in case’ was for, but it felt right, so I did it.
I stared at the phone for a moment. Two weeks ago, I had walked into this bar as Miss Lilly’s bartender and nothing else.
I had been perfectly alone and perfectly fine with it.
And now I was standing here with my heart somewhere out in that desert, chasing after three men I had no business caring about this much.
I was so screwed.
Then, the bell over the bar door dinged.
“Deac, is everything all right?” I asked as I looked up.
I didn’t find the guys like I figured, though. I didn’t even find Plug, which I would have taken at that point. Anyone that could tell me what was going on and whether or not the guys were okay.
Instead, I found a woman staring back at me in a navy blue work suit with a white ruffled blouse.
“Oh, hi!” I chirped as I slapped my cleaning rag over my shoulder. “My apologies, I thought you were someone else. Welcome to Bottle Grounds. My name is Char. What can I get started for ya?”
She smiled as she approached the bar. Her heels clicked against the floor. She had a kind smile and bright eyes, and it settled me a bit. At least the entire town hadn’t been shaken by what had just occurred.
But then again, she didn’t look like she was from around town.
“You know, I think I might take you up on the offer of a soda, if you have any?” she asked as she bellied up to the bar.
“Pepsi products, galore,” I said as I picked up the soda dispenser nozzle. “What’ll it be?”
She scanned the nozzle for her options. “Diet, please. And maybe a little bit of your time, if you don’t mind.”
I smiled as I reached for a glass above my head. “Oh, it’s no problem at all. You’re always welcome to come drink and talk at my bar top.”
“Perfect,” she said as I filled her drink, “because I have a few questions for you.”
And when I placed her drink in front of her, I found a badge sitting in front of her.
Waiting for my eyes to behold.
“Special Agent Monica DeFleur,” she said as she picked up her drink.
Jesus fucking Christ, an ATF agent had just bellied up to my bar.
This isn’t gonna be good.